Always
by Brokenwand
Summary: “He was the love of my life, Mr Potter. And I was his. He was known by many different names. But to me, he was just Tom. Tom Riddle.” Rated M for sex/torture/murder
1. Chapter 1: Photograph

**Chapter 1: Photograph**

A cold autumn afternoon saw Harry in his office. Now a fully qualified Auror, and youngest person in Wizarding history to be elected Head Auror, it was safe to say he was very satisfied and content in his life. He had a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, three remarkable children and wonderful friend. Yes. Life was good. But unfortunate, having such a high profile job meant that he often finished lvery mate at night, sometimes he even had to work into the wee hours of the morning.

Harry sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his hair. Even as an adult it refused to flat to his head, sticking up in every direction and no matter how much sleek-eaze he used, it wouldn't cooperate. He yawned. It had been a long week at work, so many trials to attend, so many statements to give, so much evidence to present. Even all these years later, death eaters were still being rounded up and brought before the Wizengamot to be tried and sentenced. After the Second Wizarding War, a vast majority had gone into hiding. But luckily, slowly but surely, they were diminishing in numbers and being weeded out.

He immensely enjoyed being an auror, and there was no other job he'd rather do. But being away from his family for so long was a real struggle.

A photograph on his desk caught Harry's eye. It was a photo that had been taken last year at the burrow. Ginny was holding Lily in her arms as mother and daughter laughed. James and Albus were glaring at each other from either side of their father, both boys wearing their Hogwarts uniform. Harry recalled that the two had had a small spat just before the photo was taken. Albus had made the quidditch team, whereas James had only been made an alternate. Needless to say he had been fiercely jealous, but the boys had soon made up after. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Family life was never dull.

"Mr Potter?" A small voice called.

Harry looked up to see Katie Bell peeking her head through his office.

"Oh hey, Katie." He greeted. "Come in."

Katie had been assigned as his personal secretary some months back. After a brief fling with Jordan Lee, followed by a quick marriage and ending in a messy divorce, the girl had been desperate for a job. Divorces were expensive and from what Harry had heard, Jordan wasn't making the experience any less unpleasant.

"Sorry to bother you Mr Potter. But there's a woman here to see you. She said it's important." Katie explained.

Harry nodded. "Okay send her in."

Katie smiled gently before turning back to the door.

"Oh and, Katie?" Harry called as she paused to turn and look at him. "You know you don't have to call me 'Mr Potter'. Harry is fine." He grinned.

She smiled back before exiting his office, Harry heard her murmur through the door as she signaled for whomever was on the other side to go through.

He looked up as a woman entered, dressed in long, emerald colored robes with fine silver embroidery running along the cuffs and collar. An oval silver locket rested on her chest, engraved with something Harry couldn't quite make out. Her hair was neither blonde nor platinum, but a tone of pure white and piled high on her head in an elegant twist. Her skin was a sickly pale color, and dark circles hung heavy under her eyes.

She reached up to remove the dark sunglasses she wore from her face and only once Harry saw the shocking shade of blue of her eyes, did he realize what this woman was. She wasn't just any woman. 'Veela'. A voice whispered in his head. Despite the kind smile on her face, Harry found that she looked rather exhausted, as if she hadn't slept for weeks. Harry figured she couldn't have been any more than fifty years old, potentially a little younger if she didn't look so tired.

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter. I do hope I'm not interrupting." She said softly. Her voice was smooth like butter, and Harry could tell that from the articulation of her voice, this woman had had a high class upbringing. As if she'd sat through hours of elocution lessons as a child.

"Good afternoon, Mrs...?" He paused, for the woman had yet to introduce herself.

"Whitewall. Penelope Whitewall, Mr. Potter. And it's actually Miss Gracey. My husband died last week and I have been going by my maiden name since then." She replied. "A pleasure to meet you at last." She held out her hand for him to take. He paused briefly, unsure if he should shake it, or bow his head and kiss it, like some posh and educated pure-blood that she was no doubt used to. He reached up to take her hand nonetheless, but never even had the chance to decide before she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and returned her arm to her side. He didn't miss how cold her hands felt, even through the very clearly expensive mink and leather gloves she wore. It was still like touching a block of ice. The name sounded extremely familiar to Harry and he began racking his brain before he realized who she had been married to.

"As in William Whitewall, the chancellor? My condolences on your husband. He was a good man." Harry said. He had grown to know the man over the years, William having sat in on many a sentencing for the death eaters. But unfortunately, William had succumbed to a heart attack, his old age finally catching up with him. Harry hadn't known the man was married, but if his wife was grieving her husband, no wonder she looked so tired and worn down.

He was surprised when she absently waved her hand. "No need. We all die eventually, no need to cry about the inevitable. But yes. He was a good man. And a good husband. I like to think of my husbands' death as mercy killing, Mr Potter. He is no longer forced to endure me as his wife." Her voice held no amount of sadness whatsoever. She almost seemed rather blasé about her husbands passing. But weren't Veela supposed to mourn the death of their mate? Most often followed their mates soon after. The grief and sadness being too much to bear.

"I can see you are confused, Mr Potter. I saw your face when I entered your office. You know perfectly well what I am." She smiled. There was a twinkle in her eye, almost like she found the situation humorous. "Would you mind if I sat down? Unfortunately at my age the joints do protest when one stands for too long."

Harry practically jumped from behind his desk to pull out the opposite chair for her. "Of course. Please. Sit." He said but he frowned inwardly. Her age? The woman couldn't have been more than fifty at the most.

As she sat down, he noticed her gaze turn to the photo of Ginny and the kids that he had previously been looking at. "Your family?" She asked. Harry nodded. "May I?" Her hand reached out for the frame, but she waited for his permission before touching it. Harry nodded once again, and she gently lifted the frame from his desk.

"You have very beautiful children. You and your wife must be very proud." She carried on gazing at the photo, and Harry could help but notice the wistful look in her eyes. An almost...longing.

"We are. Ginny is a wonderful mother." He replied, a happy smile on his face. "We're actually thinking about having another child."

"That's wonderful. Parenthood is such a blessing. My husband and I never had children. You're very lucky, Mr Potter." She smiled up at him, before looking back down at his family.

Harry smiled back. "I know. Ginny and I are really lucky. I'm really excited about the prospect of another baby too. She's contemplating on whether we should or not. But it's her body so it's her choice. I'm hoping she does chose to have another one though." He was surprised when Miss Gracey's' face turned sad.

"Choice." She sighed. "It's strange how little choice we have in this world isn't it?"

Harry furrowed his brow at her strange words. What an odd thing to say. "That's not true, we have lots that we're able to decide. Life doesn't take our choices from us. We decide our own fate."

His response was met with a chuckle. "Oh, how wrong you are, Mr. Potter. Life does take our choices from us. And fate is no kinder." She sighed as she placed the photo gently back down on his desk. "In life we have many easy choices. We can choose if we would like scrambled eggs on toast or porridge for breakfast. We have some choices that are a little bit harder. Such as deciding what career path we'd like to follow when we get older. But the hard choices, the ones that really matter, are the ones that life makes for us. We don't get to decide what we want. If I had my own freedom to choose, I like to think that many people's lives would have been very different. Yours' included." Miss Gracey sat up in her chair as she folded her hands daintily in her lap. "It is also why I have come to see you today, because by the time I am finished here, you will also have a choice to make. And I promise you it will be a very hard one." She finished.

Harry opened his mouth to speak and ask what on earth she was talking about but she cut him off. "I must congratulate you as well on winning the war. I am aware it was two decades ago but I'm afraid I never managed to visit you before now. The circumstances being what they were." She shrugged gently, watching him as he came round to sit back behind at his desk.

"Circumstances?" He asked in confusion.

She smiled, her lips quirking in mild amusement. "As I said. My husband died only recently. I have been unable to come before now. You see, I promised my husband when we married that I would never say a word to anyone about our marriage as long as he was alive. Now with his death, I am able to speak freely."

Harry could feel his temple start to throb. This woman was beyond confusing. She seemed to make no sense whatsoever and her sentences were so random he was beginning to get a headache from trying to work out what she was even saying. Did she even know what she was saying herself?

She chuckled. "You look rather confused."

"I'm afraid I am confused. Excuse me if I sound rude, but why are you here?"

"You hardly sound rude, Mr. Potter." She smiled. "I am over ninety years old. So believe when I say I have heard rude people speak before."

At her revelation, Harry nearly fell backwards out of his chair. Ninety years old???

"Perhaps I should start from the beginning." She offered. "I fear that if I continue to muddle your head even further, we shall be forced to admit you to St Mungo's after you've had an aneurysm." She laughed.

The woman was completely batty! That was the only explanation. Complete and utter bonkers! Off her rocker. Anyway you wanted to put it, she had to be barking mad.

"I can assure you, Mr Potter, that I am not insane. I can tell exactly what you're thinking by the look on your face. After being alive for almost one hundred years you get very good at reading people. And right now, you are an open book." She sighed, smoothing her hand over her robes, flattening out invisible creases. "I have to admit, I am rather embarrassed you've had to see me in such a mess." She sighed. "I didn't always look this haggard. I'll have you know I was quite the looker in my youth." She giggled with a wink. Yep. Definitely off her rocker. But for now, he'd humor her. He was still very curious as to why she was here in the first place.

"Perhaps if you'd start at the beginning, like you said." Harry motioned with his hand for her to continue.

"As you wish." She nodded. "This photo, it's your favorite, is it not?" She gestured to his desk.

Harry nodded. What did his photo have to do with anything? "How could you tell?" He asked.

Miss Gracey darted her eyes around his office, waving her hand at the many other frames on his walls. "You hung these, but that one you keep on your desk. You keep it close." She stated. "Before I begin, would you permit me to take a closer look at your photographs?"

"You seem to have an odd fascination with my photos, Miss Gracey. I will of course allow you to take a closer look but only if you answer me as to why." Harry replied, leaning back into his chair. A quick glance at his clock told him that it was almost 6 o'clock. Ginny would soon be preparing dinner. He didn't want to be late.

"Photographs are important. They're the clearest form of memories. And in the end, memories are all we have." With that, Miss Gracey stood slowly on shaking legs. Harry moved forward to help her, but stopped when she held up her hand. "Now, now don't fuss. Once I stand, I'm fine. It's the getting up that's a struggle. Like I said. Old age." She smiled at Harry softly before walking over to the frames hung on the wall. "Now, let's see..." She whispered to herself. "Ah. Your wedding day." She grinned at the first one, before moving on. "This I presume, was your Graduation day at Hogwarts." She turned back to look at Harry, noting the smile of pride in his face.

"I repeated my seventh year. I wanted to be an auror and despite having more field experience than most aurors twice my age, by law I had to Graduate to be able to qualify." Harry explained.

"I see Professor Slughorn made it that day." She noted.

"Yes he did." Harry nodded in response. "You knew him?"

"Yes I did. He was a good man. Also very kind and selfless." Harry didn't miss how her voice cracked and the end. "I found out he'd died two days after his funeral. I never got to say goodbye to him and he did so much for me as a girl. It would have been nice to... to have been able to say how grateful I was." Miss Gracey let out a heavy sigh as she wiped under eyes, removing any evidence of the tears that had been running down her cheeks. "I think that it's probably time to tell you exactly why I'm here, Mr Potter." She stated, marching back over to her chair with a newfound energy she hadn't displayed previously before dropping herself back into the seat.

Harry regarded her with newfound interest, finally she'd reveal why she'd come to see him.

"I'm afraid to say that you and I have more in common than you think. We both lost our parents at a young age. You however, were much younger than I, and despite you also bearing witness to your parents deaths, I unfortunately, was old enough to remember." She began. "I am, as you can see, Veela, my mother was Élira Veliu of the Albanian Veela clan. And my father was Graham Gracey, son of an Auror." Miss Gracey paused before she reached into her bag, pulling out a a small vial of thick silvery liquid. Harry watch as she popped off the cap and downed the whole vial in one mouthful. "Excuse me." She apologized. "Now where was I?"

"Your parents." Harry replied.

"Thank you. As I was saying, my parents were very much in love. My mother being lucky to find her true mate by the time she was eleven, just in time to come into her heritage. She blood-bound herself to my father by the time she was sixteen. And when she turned eighteen, she fell pregnant with me."

Harry frowned. "Pardon me for interrupting you, but I still fail to see what all this has to do with me."

Miss Gracey smiled. "I'm getting there. You see, my mother was full Veela, and until she met my father, her bloodline had been nothing but Veelas finding Veelas. My father was the first non-Veela in the entire bloodline. So, due to my him causing a dilution, I am only half. My aura is nowhere near as strong as my mother's, but I dare say, if you will forgive my boast, that without my elixir, your marriage vows would mean very little to you, should I desire to use my influence." She grinned cheekily. Her grin only seemed to grow wider as Harry shot up in his chair, a look of rage on his previously relaxed face.

"I love my wife!" He barked. "I would never cheat on her!"

Miss Gracey tossed her head back and let out a loud laugh. "Relax, Mr Potter. I can assure you that I most certainly did not come here with the intention of seducing you. Trust me when I say, you are perfectly safe in my company." Despite the Cheshire Cat grin on her face, Harry found himself oddly believing her, and he sat back down to allow her to continue.

"My influence is nothing compared to the strength of my mothers. Hers' became so strong, that it was high risk for her to even go out in public. So like me, she was forced to take an elixir to suppress her abilities, therefore making it safer for her to go outside. However, she was still unfortunately raped and murdered before my eyes when I was a child. We had been walking home through London when a drunk Muggle beggar cornered us. I was ten" Miss Gracey's smile was gone, and replaced with a look of sadness. "My father had lost his mate and the grief destroyed him. He found himself unable to live without my mother and then proceeded to down an entire bottle of Draught Of Living Death only week after her passing. I was then sent to live my aunt Geraldine in London. My fathers sister was a kind woman. She raised me well, but I would have still rather have been with my parents. Not only because I loved them, and missed them. But because I knew that on my eleventh birthday, I would come into my heritage, and due to my aunt only being a witch, she would have no idea how to help me. I'm sure you understand when I say I was absolutely terrified." She glances over at Harry to see her was now looking at her with open interest. "Not only because I was going to be very much on my own throughout the whole process, but because I had seen what being a Veela had done to my parents. The bond they shared running so deep, that my father willingly followed her into death, just so he never had to bear living without her. That terrified me more than anything else did. Knowing that I would one day find a mate of my own. And risk condemning them to death, should I pass on. I didn't want that on my conscience. I didn't want that responsibility. But as you are aware. I did eventually find my husband. My true mate." She finished, waiting for his reaction.

Harry could feel himself growing impatient. Throughout all her gibberish about heritage and bloodlines, she still had to explain what any of it had to do with him.

"Please continue." He pressed.

"My husband was my true mate, Mr Potter. But he was by no means the love of my life. I met that person when I was no more than a simple student of Hogwarts. Just like you were." She explained, opening a pocket inside her jack and removing a small piece of paper.

"Meaning?" Harry asked.

"This is where you come in. You were kind enough to allow me to see your favorite photograph. Would you permit me to show you mine? The only one that I keep truly close?" She asked. Harry didn't miss how tightly she gripped the photo in her fingers, almost as if she was afraid it would disappear completely if her grip loosened.

Harry nodded silently, reaching out to take it from her outstretched hand. As he gazed down, the first thing that he noticed was that the photo was old, not just in picture quality but also in appearance, with a creased surface and frayed edges. Only two people were in the black and white picture, an extremely pretty young blonde girl and dark haired young man danced around happily, before the young man swept her up into his arms and proceeded to spin them around, much to her glee. He then proceeded to try and press a kiss against her check, before her head turned and managed to capture his lips with her own. Harry couldn't help but smile at the two of them. The absolute joy in both of their eyes was apparent. There was however, something very familiar about the both of them.

"I told you I was a looker." Miss Gracey giggled across from him.

Harry's eyes widened. "This is _you_?" If she was indeed the girl in the picture, maybe she wasn't completely bonkers after all.

"Indeed. I was sixteen when this photo was taken. Being a Veela slows down the ageing. That's why I don't look my real age. But that boy you see with me, was the love of my life. And I was his." She sighed sadly. "Like I said Mr Potter, life chooses our fate for us. And had I been able to decide for myself, it would have been him that I married. I would've happily been his wife and the mother to his children. And maybe, things may have been very different. My husband wouldn't have had to have a wife who didn't, and _couldn't_ return his love because her heart belonged to someone else. His family line wouldn't have had to end because I didn't want his children. He would have been happy. I would have been happy. And maybe, just maybe, your own parents would have been here to see you grow into the man and father you've become." Tears we're now flowing freely for her eyes. But she made no move to wipe them away.

Harry was just about to ask what she meant, when something the boy did caught his eye. He smirked into the camera, and Harry felt his blood run cold and his stomach drop. He knew that smirk. He now realized why the boy seemed so familiar.

"He's...that's-that's...he's..." Harry stammered.

"He was known to the world by many different names. But to me, Mr Potter, he was just Tom. Tom Riddle."

EEEK!! I finally did it. I'm posting a story after months of telling myself I will. Just a warning that this story is going to be short, no more than 3 or four chapters. But they're going to be looong chapters. This one is rather short compared to the others so try to think of it as more of a prologue than a chapter. If you like it and would like to read more, write a review and don't forget to let me know what you think. More than the majority of the story is already written. So keep your eyes peeled for updates. They're coming fast!

Much love

JJ

xxx


	2. Chapter 2: Sacrifices

Another chapter is finally up and ready, and this will also be a double update! Thank you so much for the follows and favorites! It means so much to me you're enjoying it after just the first chapter!

The trailer for always is also up and you can watch it here:

Enjoy!

All my love, JJ

 **Chapter 2: Sacrifices**

For all the things she could have said, that was certainly not something he had expected to hear. He stared at her in open shock and disbelief. Surely this was a joke?! It was. It had to be. He actually hoped that someone was about to jump out from his broom closet yelling 'Gotcha!'. But judging by the unchanging expression on Miss Gracey's face, she was deadly serious. She honestly believed that she was the love of Voldemort's life? Oh she wasn't bonkers. The woman was completely insane!

Harry did the only thing he found that he could. He laughed. Not just a small chuckle either. A full 'head-thrown-back-tears-in-his-eyes-stomach-aching' laugh. "You're joking! Haha! You almost got me. That's actually the best joke I've heard all year. Haha!" His laughing died down however, when he saw how Miss Gracey pursed her lips and her eyebrows rose higher up her forehead. Quicker than a flash, her hand had reached out and snatched the photo back from his grasp before he'd even had time to react. Christ! The woman would've made a hell of a Seeker.

"I can assure you, Mr Potter, that this is no joke." She spat, glaring at him as her grip tightened on her photo.

Harry suddenly felt guilty. He had not only offended her, but he had in fact this time, been very, very rude.

"I apologize." He said sheepishly, running a hand down the back of his neck. He could feel his hair was getting long, he'd need to get it cut soon. "But surely you understand why I find this very hard to believe. You're telling me that the darkest wizard in magical history, a man so cruel and devoid of any empathy or emotion, was actually in love with you?" Harry scoffed. "You seem like a very well educated woman, Miss Gracey. Surely you couldn't possibly believe something so absurd." He watch as she raised her fingers to grasp the locket around her neck, a small smile on her face.

"Diddy?" She called into the air. "Diddy?"

A loud CRACK echoed around the room, Harry jumping nearly out of his seat in surprise as a house elf suddenly appeared by Miss Gracey's legs. The elf was very clearly female, dressed in a clean, pale pink pillow case and ballet slippers on her feet, with a pink ribbon tied in a bow around her wrist. The elf was slightly smaller than Dobby had been, with large blue eyes that stared adoringly up at Miss Gracey.

"Mistress!" She greeted happily, throwing her arms around Miss Gracey's calves with glee, much to Harry's surprise.

"Hello, Diddy." Miss Gracey placed a gentle hand on top of the elf's head with a smile.

"Ooh. Mistress is very cold." The elf shivered, stepping back to stare up at her. "Shall Diddy light the fire in Mistress's room? Diddy has already lighted the fire in the kitchen and parlor."

Harry couldn't help but take note of the unconditional love that shone out of the elf's eyes. Yes, since the war, new laws had been passed that made mistreatment of house elves illegal. But for such a comfortable level of contact, Harry wondered how long Diddy had actually been with Miss Gracey.

"I'd be very grateful, Diddy. Thank you. Would you also mind bringing me some tea? I find myself rather thirsty." She asked.

The house elf practically bounced on the spot with excitement at the opportunity to serve her Mistress. "Yes, Mistress. Diddy is going! Would Mr Potter like some tea too?" Diddy turned to gaze up at Harry with those enormous eyes of hers. She looked so eager to please, Harry feared if he turned her down the elf might actually cry!

"Umm...Yeah. Sure. Thanks." He stammered.

Diddy beamed at him with delight. "Diddy is coming right back, Mistress!" She curtsied before disappearing with another loud crack, leaving the two of them alone once more.

"She loves you." Harry stated as Miss Gracey smiled.

"And I her. She's wonderful. Diddy has actually been with me since my Hogwarts days. She originally was the schools elf. And when I graduated, Diddy wanted to come with me. Disgustingly, back then house elves had no choice in who they were owned by. So for her to be able to legally leave, I had to purchase her. I went to Headmaster Dippet and he kindly gave her to me a graduation gift. Luckily he shared my opinion on house elf rights." She explained.

Harry grinned to himself. Hermione would have a field day if the two of them were to ever sit and have a discussion. His friend could natter on for hours about the rights of magical creatures. Diddy suddenly reappeared with a tray of tea and biscuits. The teacups and saucers were made of what looked to be very fine China, and Harry didn't know much about precious metals, but he was pretty sure the teaspoons were real silver.

Diddy placed the tray on to his desk before turning back to Miss Gracey. That same look of adoration on her face. "Is Mistress needing anything else?"

"Thank you, Diddy but I'm fine. I'll be home soon, once Mr Potter and I are finished here," She smiled.

"Yes, Mistress." Diddy curtsied once more before disappearing once again.

Throughout it all, Harry was still mulling over her words from before. Tom Riddle had been a heartless and cold bastard right from his youth. Torturing children and animals during temper tantrums. How could this woman possibly believe that he had held any sort of love or affection for her?

"I can tell from your face, that you are still very much in disbelief of what I've told you, Mr Potter." She sighed before taking a dainty sip of her tea, placing it back into her saucer with a gentle clink.

Harry nodded, spooning two sugars from the bowl into his tea and stirring. "Surely you must understand why."

"I truly do." She replied. "But like I said before, he did love me and I loved him. I didn't realize until much later, what he was really like, but by then I was already so very much in love with him."

"Why are you telling me any of this?" Harry asked. "You came here today with the intention of doing so, what do you expect to gain from it? Voldemort's been dead for a long time. Why did you only chose now to come forward?"

"As I stated before. I couldn't come as long as my husband was alive. I promised I would spare him the embarrassment of his wife being the ex-lover of the darkest wizard of our time. He had been so good to me. How could I refuse his one and only request?" Miss Gracey sighed. "I loved my husband Mr Potter. But I wasn't in love with him. Sadly, he was so in love with me, he chose to pretend that I was. That I wasn't secretly pining for a man that I could never have. His love and blood which he willingly gave, just so I could keep on living, were such great sacrifices on his part that I can never repay him for. Veelas need the blood of their mate to survive you see. Without it, we have no sustenance. We cannot survive on mere human food alone. We can for a short while, whilst we look for our other half, but the moment our mate's blood touches our lips, we are bound together. Forever. " She sighed again. And Harry could help be feel that she looked almost...ashamed.

"Many people believe my husband died from a heart attack. But my belief is that he finally succumbed to a broken heart. My...inability...to love William ruined him. And I unashamedly feel relief that he's finally gone. He's at peace. No longer forced to suffer from having me as his mate." Miss Gracey explained. "And now that he's gone. It will soon be my turn too."

Harry gawked at her. Her turn? She could only mean one thing by that.

"Yes, Mr Potter. I'm dying. Now that my mate has gone, I have nothing left to sustain me. Although I will confess that I stopped drinking from William quite some time ago. Had I continued, I would still look the same as I did all those years ago. But I no longer have the desire to live you see. A mortal mate to a Veela can go on living if the Veela dies. But if the mortal dies first, the Veela will soon pass after. If not from heartbreak than from starvation. And due to me not feeding from William, my true age is catching up with me. I don't know exactly how long I have. But I wanted someone to know the truth before I die."

Her confession shocked Harry. He'd learned more about Veelas in the last ten minutes than he ever had from knowing Fleur. And as far as he was aware, his sister in-law certainly didn't need to drink Bills blood to survive.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked.

"My sister-in-law. She's part Veela too, but I don't think she needs to feed from her husband. Why do you?"

"How pure is her bloodline?"

"I think she said once that her Grandmother was a Veela."

"Any others in the family?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

"Then a very diluted bloodline. I'm sure though, that she is extremely pretty."

Harry blushed. He remembered very vividly the reactions the boys at Hogwarts had had due to Fleurs' presence.

Miss Gracey giggled at his reaction. "I take that as a yes. With her diluted blood, other than her beauty, I'd be very surprised if she had any other Veela traits at all. I happen to come from a very pure lineage, Mr Potter. But believe me when I say, that I take no pride in it. The amount of suffering that has been caused due to what I am, is devastating. Not only to myself, but to many others." She abruptly stopped speaking when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Harry called. They both watched as Katy poked her head around the door.

"Sorry for the interruption, Mr Potter, but I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving. Did you need anything before I left?" She asked.

Harry shook her head. "No it's fine. You head home, Katy. See you tomorrow."

Katy offered a small wave to the both of them before closing the door, her fading footsteps marching down the hall towards the Floo Network.

"Perhaps I should let you leave too. Your family is waiting." Miss Gracey said, placing her finished tea onto her desk.

Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't intensely curious to hear what this woman had to say. He pursed his lips before deciding. "I'd like to hear your story." He responded.

Miss Gracey smiled. "Very well. But remember what I told you about choices. For when I am finished here, there will be a choice that you will have to make."

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure what she meant, but he'd listen to her anyway.

"Go on." He urged. He watched as she picked the photo back up from her lap with another small smile.

"Sometimes I wish he hadn't sat next to me on the train. I wish he'd never spoken to me and I wish he'd just left well enough alone. Perhaps if he had, I never would have known him. And I could've been happy with William. But then I find myself feeling guilty. Because no matter what he's done, every moment that we had is something I'll treasure forever. It all started you see, when I was a young girl. Back in 1938." she began...

Hope you liked it! Next chapter coming right up!!


	3. Chapter 3: Glare

Here's the next part! The next chapter will be up before the end of the week. So don't forget to follow and favorite, and leave me a review to tell me what you think.

Much love,

JJ

xxx

 **Chapter 3**

The very first time he'd seen her had been when he'd boarded the Express. She was sat alone in one of the compartments wearing her school robes and a simple pair of leather Mary Janes. Her baby blue eyes were underlined with dark circles as if the girl hadn't slept in weeks. Her long, inky black hair seemed to contrast too sharply with her pale skin, almost like it was the wrong color for her complexion. She sat with her ankles gently folded, using the window sill to prop up her arm as she used her hand to rest her chin. He noticed that her features were soft and her body was short in comparison to his. He'd always been tall for his age, and if she stood next to him he imagined she was a few inches shorter than his shoulders.

Almost as if she'd felt his eyes on her, she'd turned her head ever so slightly in his direction. Her expression didn't change, and she barely glanced at him for a few seconds before turning her head back to the window. It was as if she'd not even seen him and looked right through his body, like he wasn't even there.

Tom furrowed his brow. He didn't like being ignored. Not only was it extremely rude, but he wasn't a piece of furniture and acknowledging that he was there wasn't asking for a lot.

Squaring his shoulders, he clutched the handle of his suitcase tightly before marching forward and dropping himself into the opposite seat. The girl jumped at his bold action, before her surprised expression morphed into either one of annoyance or anger.

Tom didn't react to her obvious displeasure at him being in the same compartment, he merely gazed back with unmasked curiosity and like he'd predicted, she spoke first.

"Yes?" She glared, her face now a clear display of annoyance.

"I'm Tom." He offered. "Tom Riddle. And you're rude."

Her eyes widened in shock at his brashness before her expression hardened once again. "And I also couldn't care less who you are. Now get out." She glared at him.

"Looks like someone knows how to make friends." A voice laughed from the door. They both looked to see a group of four boys and a girl smirking in at them. "And people say that first years are always shy." The tallest one cackled. The group sniggered along with him. He was obviously the leader. "Come and sit with us, mate." He offered. Doesn't look like you're all that welcome in there anyway."

Tom turned to look back at the young girl, to find that she was still glaring at him.

"Well? Go on." She barked, her finger pointing at the door. He huffed in disgust at her rudeness before grabbing his suitcase and marching over to the group. The tallest patted him on the shoulder in greeting before turning into the compartment right opposite the girls'. They all sat down and Tom glanced over his shoulder to take another look at the dark haired girl. She was now looking down at her lap, twirling a small bottle of shimmering, silver liquid between her fingers. Almost like she'd felt her gaze on him, her head snapped to the side to return her seemingly permanent glare before she shoved herself to her feet and yanked the compartment door closed with a loud slam and pulling down the blind to block her from view.

"Like I said, mate. You sure know how to make friends." The same boy from before laughed, the others joining in. "I'm Lestrange. This is Avery, Nott and Rosier. And this is my younger sister Luciana." He nodded to each one individually. "And you are?"

"Tom." He replied. "Tom Riddle."

"Stick with us, Tom. We'll show you the ropes." Nott grinned. "The first year is always the scariest. But by the time you've hit your second, everything is an absolute breeze."

"You're all second years?" Tom asked. He could tell this group had every intention of taking him under their wing. But as if he'd let that happen. He'd learn a few things from them of course, but like everything else they'd soon be of little use to him.

"Me and Nott, yeah." Lestrange replied. "Avery and Rosier are first years like you. Our families are pretty close, old money and all. My father's an advisor to the Ministry, Nott's dad owns half of Wiltshire and Avery and Rosiers' dad is a Chairman for the Ministry. What do your parents do?"

The whole group turned their gaze on him, and he couldn't help but feel nervous under their stare. "I don't know." He confessed. My parents died when I was younger. I know they were both magical though. Why else would I be here?" He shrugged.

"Unless you're one of...those." Avery shuddered. A quiet collective murmur went through the group.

"One of what?" He asked.

"A Muggle-Born." Luciana spat the word with such disgust that Tom could barely resist the urge to flinch.

"What's that?"

"A dirty, filthy excuse for a witch or wizard. Someone whose parents are non-magical and they end up either being a witch or wizard themselves. It's beyond sick. Magic should stay in magical families if you ask me. Anything outside of that is a freak of nature." Avery sneered at him. "You're not one of them are you?"

Tom fiercely shook his head. "No! No! I'm not one of them. I know my parents were magic. Dumbledore said so himself."

"Dumbledore told you?" Avery frowned at him.

"Yes. When he gave me my school list and letter." Tom said.

"Wow. In person, eh? Must've felt you were important. Guess you must be pure then. Otherwise why else would he bother?" Rosier shrugged before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a licorice wand to munch on.

Tom glanced over at Luciana to see she was regarding him with unmasked interest. A smile across her face. He frowned. What was she looking at?...

Stepping off the train and onto the platform, Tom followed behind the group, watching as they waved to school friends they hadn't seen since the start of summer and nodding politely to teachers that had come to supervise. He had sat quietly whilst the others had joked and laughed on the train ride. He had also, tried to avoid looking at Luciana too often. Any time he accidentally met her eyes, her gaze only seemed to grow more intense. What was with her?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a familiar head of inky black hair caught his eye, and he looked up just in time to see the girl from earlier step off the train. He also watched as she slipped the same small bottle she had before back into her pocket. He didn't miss however, that it was now empty.

"We're riding in the carriages, Tom. You're a first year so you'll go with Luciana, Avery and Rosier in the boats." Lestrange stated, spinning on his heel and marching towards a row of carriages, seemingly being pulled by...nothing? How peculiar.

He followed the group of first years over to the lakes edge, finding himself strangely eager to climb in. He didn't miss however, that Luciana seemed to be glued to his side.

"Isn't it exciting?" She grinned at him. "We're finally first years and we're going to be sorted into our houses tonight! I hope I get Slytherin. I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw just as long as I don't get Gryffindor and don't even get me started on Hufflepuff." She scoffed with disgust. Tom had no idea what she was talking about, so he chose to tune her out and instead, turn his head back to look at the girl from before. She was stood alone by one of the boats. She seemed, he noted, to rather like being on her own...

Penelope sighed to herself as she stood by the waters edge. She knew she should never have let Aunt Geraldine talk her into attending Hogwarts. This was a huge mistake. And having already taking her suppressant, she was beginning to feel rather jittery. It had only been a very small and weak dose, but it was all she had with her. And she could feel its effects beginning to waver already. Her jaw was starting to ache again, and she could feel her gums twinge in her mouth as her fangs pressed from their place under the skin. It wasn't enough pressure for them to completely puncture through, but it was still extremely uncomfortable. Her wig was also starting to really itch, and due to her god forsaken Veela hair having magical properties, charming it a different color was impossible. Even muggle hair dye had no effect. But she would have to endure the scratching from the wig. She couldn't let them see what was under it. They'd instantly know what she was. Penelope felt close to tears. There was no way she could do this. Her aunts' words about her schooling being a perfect distraction had been an absolute load of rubbish! 'Learn about your fathers heritage' indeed. No. She refused to submit herself to this. She wanted to go home, right that second. As soon as she was off the boat, she'd go and see whoever was in charge and get them to send her back to London. All she wanted to do was lock herself in her room and be left alone.

'Hungry.' A voice moaned from inside her head. 'So hungry.'

"Oh shut up! No one asked your opinion." Penelope hissed back mentally. Yes, Hogwarts could help with her magical heritage, but for her Veela heritage, she was very much alone...

What was she thinking about? Tom wondered as he regarded her. He watched as she stared at the ground, chewing viscously on her bottom lip. She almost looked frustrated about something. And Tom found himself very curious as to what it was.

"Do you know her?" A voice asked from beside him. Tom looked down to see Luciana glaring at the dark haired girl.

"No." Tom shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh. I wondered if you did. You were sat next to her at first on the train. Now you keep staring at her." Luciana frowned up at him.

He shrugged again. "She wouldn't tell me her name."

"Huh. Snooty mare." Luciana scoffed.

Tom was surprised when Luciana marched up to the girl, a hand cocked on her hip. He watched as the dark haired girl glanced up at whoever was approaching, before a familiar glare settled on her face. A few of the other children had stopped talking, and were regarding the two girls with keen interest.

"What's your name?" Luciana demanded, her stance unchanging.

The girl glared back with matching disgust. "Who wants to know?"

"A friend of mine." She grinned. But Tom scoffed to himself. He didn't have friends. He didn't need them. "And I'm curious myself."

"It's none of your business. And certainly none of your friends either." She spat back, flicking her eyes over to sneer at Tom.

Luciana laughed. "I was right you are a snobby cow. You might be trying to fool everyone with those expensive shoes and school robes but you don't fool me. You're a fake. You dress the part of a spoiled little rich princess but yet you stand over here by yourself, because you know as soon as you try to make a friend we'll figure you out. Like I said, darling, you're no more real than those fake Daniella Diabolyns on your feet." Luciana finished smugly.

Had he blinked, Tom was sure he would've missed it. Something strange happened to the girls eyes. Her pupils seemed to expand from the center, the black spreading out to swallow up the blue of her iris and the white of her sclera. Her eyes became pitch black orbs and returned back to their original blue as quickly as they had changed in the first place. Like he said, if he'd blinked, Tom was sure he would've missed it. He even contemplated for a moment that he'd actually imagined it. It had been over so quickly...

An eerie quiet had settled over the large group, and Tom noticed a few children glance at each other nervously. Maybe he'd not imagined it after all, for it seemed he hadn't been the only one to notice.

He saw as well that Luciana now looked rather hesitant. The girl was probably wondering if she'd bitten of more than she could chew in this fight.

He watched as the girl took in a deep breath, before a small smirk graced her lips, a dark chuckle resonating from her chest.

"You know what?" She began. "You're not even worth the effort. Coming over here to get a reaction out of me, simply because you're bored and trying to impress a boy you barely even know. Huh." She scoffed. "And you had the nerve to call me a fake. But you're actually worse than that. You're not only a fraud, but you're also pathetic. It's rather sad actually and I almost feel sorry for you. Almost." The girl quirked an eyebrow before folding her arms over her chest. A few giggles came from around the group, a couple of girls whispering behind their hands, no doubt laughing at Luciana.

Tom almost found the expression on Luciana's face humorous himself. Her skin had gone bright red and a vein was beginning to protrude from her temple. Her breath came out in barely restrained pants of air and her fists were shaking by her side.

"Mark my words." She hissed in a whisper. You've made an enemy of me today. You'll pay for this." Luciana scowled before storming back over to Tom and continuing to seethe by his side.

He found he held no pity for her. She had gone over with every intention to start a fight and had lost. The girl was right. She was pathetic.

He couldn't help but smirk back at the girl, her expression fading into a scowl once again before she turned to stare over the glassy black surface of the water...

How dare she? Penelope sneered to herself. That pompous, self entitled brat had come over to deliberately start a fight. What on earth was she playing at?! Penelope had done absolutely nothing to her to deserve a confrontation, but once she'd seen the dark haired boy staring at her, it all made sense. She was doing it all to impress a boy? Good heavens she really was pathetic. Penelope wanted to laugh to herself. But she resisted the urge. She'd very nearly slipped up earlier. Her eyes had shifted before she'd managed to stop herself, luckily however, she managed to regain control almost as quickly as she'd lost it. She couldn't afford for it to happen again though. And if she started giggling to herself, the entire student population would start to think she was batty. But she supposed it didn't really matter in the end. She'd made up her mind. She was definitely going home...

The feeling of walking through those doors was something he'd never forget. That warm and safe feeling one can only associate with the feeling of being home washed over him like a tidal wave. All his senses came to life in one singular moment, the sensation almost knocking the wind from his lungs. His nose picked up the smell of dust that seemed to linger in the air, his eyes greedily drank in the sight of brightly colored stain glass windows, and the feeling of his fingers running up the stone bannister would be something he'd remember to his dying day.

All of a sudden, Dumbledore appeared from nowhere, before he began talking about some gibberish about Hufflepuffles and Slitherdors. Tom scoffed in response. What a load of rubbish. He didn't care about houses and house unity. He wanted to know how to properly use his magic. To learn exactly what he was truly capable of. But he waited patiently nonetheless as Dumbledore prattled on.

They were eventually led through two enormous, wooden doors, and entered into the largest room he'd ever seen in his life. Four impossibly long tables lined along the length of the room. The prettiest starry night sky shone from above his head, along with another large table along the back window that held the Hogwarts Faculty. And he didn't miss how every student already seated stared at the group of first years with open curiosity.

He paused along with the others, in front of a small stone staircase. For some reason everyone had been stopped in front of a stool, a very old and grubby looking hat perched on top. He watched as Dumbledore pulled out a long roll of parchment from his robes.

"Once your name is called, you may seat yourself on the stool, and you will be sorted into your house." He explained. "Antoine Avery." He called.

Tom watched as Avery walked up the stairs before seating himself on the stool, and Dumbledore placed the hat onto his head.

For a short while, nothing seemed to happen. He almost jumped when a deep voice that seemed to resonate from the hat itself, boomed out around the hall. "SLYTHERIN!"

A thunderous round of applause came from the farthest table as Avery practically beamed with glee and almost ran to sit with the other students.

"Brian Barkwood..."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bianca Covert..."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Tom waited patiently for his turn. He frowned when he saw the feisty, mystery girl from earlier near the front. She was staring down at the floor, a blank look on her face. She was looking directly at the bottom step, but she didn't seem to really see it. It was like she was staring into thin air. If it was possible, she looked even more exhausted than before. The dark circles under her eyes were impossibly darker and her skin was a scary shade of white. But Tom couldn't help but smile to himself. He'd finally find out her name once it was called out...

'Home soon... Home soon... so hungry... need... sooo hungry...must...find...feed...' Her inner Veela refused to shut up from the darkest inner corner of her mind. Yes. She knew she was hungry. But she'd have to wait for now. She needed to find a teacher to point her in the direction of the nearest Floo. After she'd had a dose of moonwater of course. Her head was really starting to hurt and her fingers were beginning to twinge from where her talons threatened to pierce through. She'd wait for the sorting to be over and then she'd make a quick getaway. It's not like she cared what house she'd be sorted into. She wasn't staying.

But for now she concentrated on keeping her focus. She was starting to feel very tired, and knew if she didn't get some moonwater into her body soon, she was definitely going to pass out. She didn't miss how Dumbledore cocked a curios eyebrow at her exhausted appearance. She returned his gaze with the same intensity. The man baffled her. He knew exactly what she was and he'd somehow managed to convince Headmaster Dippet to allow her to attend the school. She remembered very vividly the two hour long meeting she'd been forced to endure with her Aunt. Geraldine doing everything she could to convince Dippet that Hogwarts was the best solution for her. And every time Penelope had opened her mouth to protest, she had been rewarded by a viscous pinch to her thigh under the desk. Geraldines discrete way of telling her to keep her mouth shut. She didn't even see the point. She didn't need to learn about the magical skills she'd inherited from her father. Veela were perfectly powerful on their own. She didn't even think she could ever recall her mother ever even using a wand!

Speaking of wands, she hated hers. The weight of it was unwelcome in her pocket, weighing her down like a bag of bricks. It didn't feel right to her. Just another farce. Another part of her disguise she had to wear. She didn't need it. Nor did she want it.

Geraldine had taken her to a wand maker in Albania named Igor Ivanaj. A man who only used rare and unique materials in his wands. She'd stood in the shop for over an hour. Trying wand after wand after wand. The entire process was absolutely exhausting and in the end, very much pointless. She had waited for the sudden rush of power and exhilaration her father had always described. But she felt nothing. Numb. Like always. In the end, she lied to Igor, pretending to bounce up and down with excitement and 'finding' her wand. It was nothing special in her eyes though. Neem tree wood with a core of mermaid scale. She was sure Igor and Geraldine had seen right through her. She hadn't cared. She was beginning to wonder why she'd allowed Geraldine to appirate her halfway across Europe in the first place.

"Penelope Gracey." Dumbledore called. It was her turn.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she steadily made her way up the steps. A very microscopic part of her was nervous. Her father had been so proud a Gryffindor. Their traits were bravery, nerve and chivalry. And some part of her wanted to be able to share in that with him.

'You weren't brave enough to save your mother though, were you?' A voice hissed in her head.

"Go away. Leave me alone!" She thought back. She was careful not to say it out loud. For sure knew she would've shouted instead of whispered.

'I'm part of you, Penelope. The sooner you accept it, the happier we'll both be.' It jeered.

Letting out a deep breath as she sat down, Penelope allowed her mind to go blank, the voice quieting down until there was nothing but beautiful, black silence in her mind.

She sat down in the stool, before Dumbledore gently placed the hat onto her head.

'Hmmm. Now then. What do we have here...' a voice murmured inside her ear. Had the voice been female, she would've thought she'd been less than successful in shutting up her veela counterpart.

'Lots of bravery yes, yes. Good for Gryffindor, yes. There's cunning in here too, definitely. Hmmm... How interesting...I see...loneliness...'

'Who are you?' She thought.

'I'm no one. I'm a hat.' It snidely remarked.

'Well who, or whatever you are, sort me into a house so you can stop rustling about in my head! Don't you know it's rude to read someone's thoughts without permission?' She growled mentally.

'Quick wit.' The voice murmured.

'Don't be rude, Penelope.' Her veela tutted. 'Let the hat do it's job.'

'I told you to go away!'

'Technically I can't do that. I'm in your head, therefore I'm part of you. I can't exactly go anywhere. Maybe the hat can convince you better than I. You need to let me in, little girl. You know you can't keep taking that potion forever.' It mocked with a cackle.

'Make it stop!' Her thoughts pleaded. 'Just put me anywhere! Ravenclaw is fine, I don't care, just...please! Shut her up! Shut her up!' She begged.

'RAVENCLAW!' The hat bellowed.

Loud, booming applause rang out from one of the tables and Penelope practically sprinted from the stool and shoved herself into the closest available seat, ignoring the many hands the reached out to shake hers and flinching when she received congratulatory pats on the shoulder. She couldn't care less that they sent affronted glances her way, and she pretended not to see the way that Dumbledore regarded her. The way he looked almost made her think that he knew exactly what had happened in her head. But how could he? Only she knew. Only she had to put up with her Veelas incessant nagging and whines to be set free. No. Her Veela would stay exactly where she was and she was never coming out...

Slytherin! He was in Slytherin! Tom couldn't help but feel tickled with glee and pride as he sat by his housemates at the table. He had also felt a little smug that he finally knew who the girl was. Penelope Gracey. And he hadn't even had to drag it out of her, there was something very satisfying about being given the information so easily from Dumbledore.

Before he knew it, the sorting was over and he was listening to who he now knew was Headmaster Dippet, prattle through a welcome back speech. Tom tuned him out, his gaze turning to Penelope across the room. She happened to catch his stare as she looked up, and sent him her signature scowl. He chuckled to himself. He was beginning to find it less threatening, and more so... amusing. He watched as she was the first to look away, her gaze dropping to the table to begin scooping food onto her plate that had suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere. And what a glorious spread it was. Tom had never tasted such delicious food. Even the annual Christmas roast at the orphanage hadn't tasted anywhere near this good. He feasted on grilled chicken, along with baked potato and vegetables, finishing up with the creamiest chocolate mousse he had ever sampled, followed by a second helping.

"Slow down, mate. Plenty to go around." Lestrange winked at him from across the table, Nott chuckling along with him. Rosier had also been sorted into Slytherin, as had Luciana. Who was presently and regrettably, once again glued to Tom's side like some needy little lap dog. It was beginning to irritate him.

Penelope's inky black hair caught his eye over Lestrange's shoulder. Tom frowned. She wasn't eating. She had in fact, placed food on her plate, a slice of meat and a few peas, but was merely pushing it around disinterestedly. Odd. The girl looked rather skinny from what he'd seen of her. Maybe her parents were poor and couldn't feed her. So if that was the case, why wasn't she eating? She must've been ravenous.

Lestrange frowned when he noticed Tom fixated on something behind him. "What're you looking at, Riddle?" He asked, turning in his seat to follow his eyes. "Ah." He grinned, elbowing Nott in the side. Nott grunted in annoyance at being disrupted from what happened to be his fourth helping of raspberry trifle. "Puppy love." Lestrange chuckled at him.

Tom ignored him. What a ridiculous notion. He would admit he was very curious about her, almost...intrigued. For it wasn't often he met someone more closed off and guarded than himself. Intrigued indeed.

She didn't know how long she stared at her plate, but it must have been a while, because the next thing she knew, people were standing and following prefects back towards double doors. Brilliant. Everyone was going to bed. This was her chance. She jumped up from her seat and made to move around the table, before she suddenly bumped into a wall made of soft robes. A slight smell of sherbet lemon and licorice met her nose, and she looked up to see a smiling Albus Dumbledore looking down at her.

"Eager to be off to bed, Miss Gracey? You're in quite the rush." He teased. She didn't know how, but she realized he knew exactly what she was up to. She glanced around nervously, to see a few of the student turn their heads to watch with unveiled interest.

"I want to go home." There was no point in lying. "I don't want to be here and I never did. I just want to go back to London." Penelope could feel tears stinging from behind her eyes. The day had been far too long, and her exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her. Dumbledore kept his eyes on her face and waited until the last of the students had left before he spoke.

"Have you taken your Moonwater today, Miss Gracey?" He asked calmly. Penelope frowned. He asked her so casually, like he was asking her about the weather...

"Um...yes..?" She was still very unsure where he was going with his line of questioning, and when he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, she noticed another man stood behind him, regarding her with a kind smile.

"How much have you taken exactly?" Albus continued.

She shrugged. "The recommended dosage. I went to the apothecary before getting onto the train this morning, but she didn't have any vials that were ready. She had to mix up something quick on the spot."

"Ah. A substitute then." The man behind Dumbledore spoke up, walking forward towards her.

"I guess..." she shrugged again.

"Miss Gracey this is Professor Horace Slughorn." Dumbledore gestured. "He's the potions master here at Hogwarts and also the head of Slytherin House. He is going to be preparing and supplying you with your Moonwater during your stay at Hogwarts."

"I'm not staying." Penelope stated. "I want to go home. So if you would please direct me to the nearest Floo, I'll just be leaving."

Dumbledore regarded her for what seemed to be a very long time, his smile unfaltering and his eyes unblinking. "Very well." He suddenly said. "Follow me. We can use the Floo in Headmaster Dippet's office." With a perfectly even stride, he made his way towards the double doors, Penelope struggling to keep up with her much shorter legs. She didn't spare back a glance for Professor Slughorn, her mood suddenly greatly improved at the prospect of being able to go home. She almost felt a smile tugging at her lips.

She followed him down many corridors and he finally stopped in front of a very large eagle statue.

"Bertie Botts." He said. Penelope watched as the eagle rose and span up from the floor, a stone staircase ascending from underneath it.

"Up we go." Dumbledore smiled, as Penelope walked up behind him. They walked into an immensely large room, strange instruments and large bottles filled with all sorts of potions. But the thing that caught Penelope's eye was the large fireplace. In a few moments she'd be home!

Her eyes farted around the hearth, looking for the powder she needed.

"Here you are." Dumbledor presented her with a large pot of Floo Powder. Her hand reached eagerly for the pot, when a sudden thought passed through her head, and she paused.

"You're letting me go rather easily." She frowned.

Dumbledore nodded. "You want to leave don't you?"

"Yes...and you're letting me go? Just like that?" Something wasn't right. This was too easy. "No grown up lecture about how it's late at night and I should at least wait till morning?"

"I see no point in trying to convince you to stay. You've obviously made up your mind." He smiled gently with a small shrug.

"Yes. I have." Penelope agreed. She took a handful of Floo Powder before stepping into the fireplace.

"But..." Dumbledore started. "It would be a shame if you didn't stay."

"Oh?" She frowned. Guess she was going to get a lecture after all.

"Yes, as you know, your father was a student here at Hogwarts himself. An excellent student in fact. He was very gifted at Transfiguration you see, which just so happens to be the subject I teach. I believe, that his talent lies within you as well."

Penelope scoffed. "I doubt that very much."

"I don't. Your father was a very talented wizard, talent like that definitely runs in the family. And I know for a fact it's running through your veins right now." Dumbledore smiled.

She couldn't help but sigh. "Unfortunately, magic isn't the only thing in my blood, Professor."

"I'm very well aware of that, Miss Gracey. As is Headmaster Dippet and Professor Slughorn." He nodded.

She pursed her lips in response. "Exactly how many people know what I am?"

He shrugged. "Only the people I have just mentioned. The school nurse as well of course. In case of an emergency. Anyone else you wish to tell is entirely up to you. The idea of bringing you to Hogwarts, is something I know you are not at all comfortable with. And I also know that you have had to go through so much more than anyone should ever have to endure, let alone a ten year old girl. But the purpose of bringing you here, was to make sure you felt you had control of something going on in your life." His eyes had turned very soft and gentle as they looked at her.

"Control? I'm perfectly in control!" She snapped.

'Liar.' A voice sniggered.

"Do you ever shut up?!" She shrieked. She paled when she realized she'd actually shouted out loud, and Dumbledore was giving her a look that could only be described as amused.

"Yes. I can see how controlled you are." He chuckled. "I won't lie to you, Penelope. I won't pretend I understand what you're going through. I won't act as if I know exactly how you feel. Only you know that. But I do know you are terrified and feel very much alone. I can see it in your eyes. But you can't help what you are, and it's not your fault, or even a problem. You're here because I want to help you. Your Veela blood is diluted with magic, and without proper training, and with you continuing to suppress who and what you are, that will, I'm afraid, have disastrous consequences." He sighed sadly, placing the pot back on the desk and folding his hands in front of him.

Penelope couldn't help but to huff at him. Her mother would be appalled at her behavior, but right now, in her eyes, it was justified. "I know. Everything you're telling me I already know. I don't want to be what I am. I saw what being...this...did to my mother. It got her killed! Just because some drunk Muggle thought she was pretty. And as for my father..." she sobbed. "He couldn't live without her! But he could live without me! He left me! He left me behind!"

The Floo Powder tumbled from her hand to the marble floor as she placed her hands over her face, and cried. She cried because she missed her parents. She cried because she hadn't been able to help her mother. Because she hadn't been able to stop her father in time before his suicide. And because everything Dumbledore had said was true. She was absolutely terrified and feeling very much alone. Her aunt didn't understand. Geraldine loved her unconditionally of course, but she was clueless about her niece's Veela heritage. She was eleven now and already struggling.

And it was only going to get worse as she got older. Or at least until she found her mate. But she didn't want to find him. She didn't want to know who he was or what he even looked like. She refused to bond herself to a person and condemn them to death should anything happen to her.

A soothing hand was placed on top of her head, smoothing over the black fibres of her wig. She looked up with watery eyes, expecting to see Dumbledore, but was very surprised to find Professor Slughorn looking down at her with a soft smile. Where had he come from?

"Come now, dear. Dry those tears." He soothed, handing her a small handkerchief. She took it gratefully, dabbing away at her eyes.

He smiled kindly when her her face was dry and pulled a small bottle from his robe pocket, filled with a very familiar silver liquid. "I think, you could do with a good dash of this." He handed her the ampoule, and she chugged it back greedily.

The relief was instantaneous. Her jaw immediately stopped aching, her gums no longer felt raw, her fingers didn't feel like they were protruding glass shards, she felt wonderfully awake, and the voice in her head, was beautifully silent.

"Wow!" She gasped. "Was that really Moonwater?"

Professor Slughorn chuckled with pride. "Oh yes indeed, my dear. With my own personal touches of course."

"Thank you." She beamed up him. "Thank you!"

"Better?" Albus grinned.

She nodded her head vigorously. "Absolutely."

"And the voice?" He asked.

"How did you-"

"Well it certainly wasn't me you shouted at earlier was it?" He laughed, Slughorn joining in.

"Seeing as its only the three of us in here, I'm sure you'd like to take that wig of, my dear. It doesn't look entirely comfortable." Professor Slughorn offered.

She smiled, reaching up to grasp the wig. "You're right. It's not." As the wig came away from her head, she felt her platinum locks tumble down her back in thick waves, stopping just above her waist. She rubbed a soothing hand through her scalp. The wig was unbelievably itchy and her head was certainly grateful for a break.

"My word." Slughorn gasped. "Dumbledore, you said, but...now I truly believe you. A pure Veela."

She frowned. "Not pure. Close enough though." She jumped when Professor Dumbledore suddenly clapped his hands together.

"Goodness. Is that the time already? You'd best be off, Miss Gracey." He gestured towards the hearth.

Penelope turned her head to the fireplace, a contemplating look on her face as she chewed her lip.

"Only three people know what I am?" She asked him. He nodded back. "And Professor Slughorn will provide me with Moonwater during my time here?" He nodded again. Only now he wore a knowing smile on his face.

Penelope sighed in defeat. "You win. I'll stay."

 **Tada!!!! I hope you enjoyed reading the latest update. The next part will be published before the weeks over. Don't forget to favorite and follow and leave me a review.**

 **Much love**

 **JJ**

 **xxx**


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